


Thanx For Stayin'

by MyChemicalRachel



Category: My Chemical Romance, Reggie and the Full Effect
Genre: M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 17:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1193880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyChemicalRachel/pseuds/MyChemicalRachel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The song finishes and the band onstage thanks us for coming. I don't pay much attention to what they're saying, not even recognizing the band name when they announce it once again. I'm not here for this band, I'm here for Reggie And The Full Effect.</p>
<p>Even more so, I'm here for Frank.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thanx For Stayin'

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The title comes from a song by Reggie And The Full Effect.
> 
> A/N: Just a special Valentines Day Frerard for you guys ^.^ I've had a small idea for something like this for awhile, back when Frank was filling in on bass for Reggie, and I SAW THEM ON VALENTINES DAY IN CLEVELAND AND I MET JAMES DEWEES and then I kind of got inspired. Not my best work, but I hope you guys like it regardless!  
> -MyChemicalRachel <3

They all seemed too close. Hundreds of people pressed together, like a sea of bodies all meshed together into one giant wave that surrounded and swallowed me whole. I had been to plenty of concerts in my lifetime-- my entire career for the past twelve years centered around live performances-- but this was different. Instead of seeing the mass of fans, writhing as one and swarming the edge of the stage toward me, I was feeling it. I could feel the pressure of the separate entities; A shoulder jabbed into my arm while the boobs of a woman were flush against my back. And yet somehow, when one moves, they all do. It was hard to pinpoint individual motions instead of crowd actions but, actually being in the crowd, it was easier. For the most part, I knew which movements were my own and which ones were forced upon me by the movement of others. But the screaming, the sweat, the jumping: I didn't know how much of it was actually me anymore. When the crowd wanted to surge forward, I followed, whether by  force or by my own control, I couldn't tell which. All I could seem to focus on was the pulsating beat of the drums as they echoed through my mind and body.

The song finishes and the band onstage thanks us for coming. I don't pay much attention to what they're saying, not even recognizing the band name when they announce it once again. I'm not here for this band, I'm here for Reggie And The Full Effect.

Even more so, I'm here for Frank.

I feel the sweat convening on my palms, my body becoming hotter as my nerves seem to swell. I haven't seen him in almost eleven months, when I told the others that I was done. I was sick of not even knowing my own band anymore, sick of never seeing my wife, sick of seeing  _him_  every day and knowing that he was happy with everything. I was finished with the theatrics and the interviews and putting my comics on the back burner. I was done with My Chemical Romance.

They didn't understand. Ray tried to convince me that I just needed a hiatus. He said that I should take a break from living Danger Days, and before that Black Parade, but I could tell that he was actually kind of relieved. He had a son on the way, he was going to be a dad, and he wanted to be there for Christa. He was almost as anxious to move away from the band as I was, he just wasn't willing to admit it. Mikey was mad at me. He kept a poker face in front of the others, but the second we were alone, he flipped his shit. He screamed at me and told me that the band was all he had. He had been fighting with Sarah lately, after his divorce with Alicia, and he needed the music. He hasn't talked to me in months.

But Frank was fine. He said that he didn't want the music to end but we all knew it had to sometime. He could spend time with his wife and kids, he could focus on a solo career or make new bands, both of which he did quickly. He was tweeting domestic shit and instagraming cheesy photos of various things. He moved on, even filling in temporarily on bass for one of his old bands, Reggie And The Full Effect. Which is why I'm here.

Why, just last night, I had bleached my hair in the bathroom of a cheap-as-shit motel.

Why I was trying to hide myself in the mass of screaming fans, doing my best to avoid being identified as Gerard Way.

Why I was in some random Ohio town on Valentines Day instead of with my wife.

Why I had told my wife that I was filing for divorce.

Because I was in love with Frank Iero.

There. I said it.  _I love Frank Iero_. I said it again. I'd say it a thousand times and still mean it just as much as the first. I'd scream it at the top of my lungs and paint it on the side of the Empire State Building. I wanted everyone to know.

But first, I had to let  _him_  know.

My heart drops into my stomach when the band finally shuffles out onto the stage, each member picking up their respective instruments and finding their place. James' voice screeches out over the sound of screaming fans, the noise seeming almost deafening in my ears, but I can't seem to focus on anything but Frank. He's to the left of the stage, picking at the tuning knobs of the bass he cradles in the arms. The guitar looks so big next to him but his hands glide gracefully across the neck in strong and sure movements. And then he starts to play and his entire aura changes. He goes from being small and awkward to being nimble and confident. The way his fingers move on the strings, the pick barely visible as he strums, he seems so sure of himself. He bounces on the stage, his pale lips already wet with saliva pressed against the microphone as he backs up James' vocals. The pure ecstasy on his face seems to almost overwhelm me and I realize just how much I missed seeing that look. How many times that look was pulled when he was singing our own lyrics.

His eyes are closed for a long while and I remember distinctly our last performance together. Not the concert, the last show for the fans, but a practice.

_We were rehearsing in the studio, Ray and Mikey running late which left the two of us alone. He was seated on the old worn out couch, an acoustic cradled in his lap and strumming absently a few chords, while I spun myself around in the wheeling chair at the soundboard. My movements immediately stopped though when Frank spoke up, breaking the silence between us and dragging my attention to him. "Do you remember Projekt Revolution?"_

_I raised an eyebrow at him and my response was hesitant. "Yeah...?"_

_"Why did you do it?" He tilted his head. His playing had stopped and the guitar sat untouched in his lap._

_I swallowed roughly and shrugged, a stiff gesture through the tension that suddenly overtook my body. "Do what?"_

_He rolled his eyes. "You know what." He accused, but said anyway what I didn't want to hear. "Why did you push me away? You never minded me intruding on your personal space before."_

_"We've talked about this," I said, the words practically being forced from my throat._

_"Right," Frank nodded, clearly not buying it. "You were just having a bad day. But I don't believe that."_

_"Come on, that was almost six years ago." It was a struggle to make my voice sound calm and not panicked. In all honesty, I didn't know what else to tell him. The truth?_

_Yeah. The truth; That was about the time that I started realizing that it was more than just a stage act. I actually had feelings for Frank. But the thought freaked me out. I did not like guys. I had an amazing girlfriend. Frank was just a friend and Frerard was just an act. So when he came onto me at Projekt, I panicked. I pushed him away. It was a lot more malicious than I had intended and I apologized for that, but it still worried me. A few nights after, I married Lindsey backstage after a concert to prove to myself that I was not in love with Frank. But I couldn't tell him that. So I shook my head as if it were nothing and said, "Seriously. It was a bad day. That's all."_

Obviously, it was not just a bad day.

Two days after that conversation, I had called it quits on My Chemical Romance. I knew by that time that my feelings for Frank were not going anywhere. But, by that point, it was too late. I had a wife and daughter I had to worry about and he had his own family. So my only way to get over him was to cut him out of my life completely, even if that meant breaking up the band.

Looking back on that choice now, I realize how stupid I was.

Eleven months without Frank in my life has been a living hell. I've been working on comics and spending time with Lindsey and even turned to Twitter for some fan interaction. But nothing works. I can't get Frank out of my head and I can't move on.

I need him and coming tonight is the only way I could think of to get him to listen to me. 

When the set is over, the venue begins clearing out measurably. Some groupies shuffle toward the bar with James, Cory, and Billy, hoping to get free drinks and a tour of the bus, but knowing the three of them, no one will get lucky enough. Most of them are just desperate saps looking for a Valentines Day hook-up with a band guy but getting shit-faced and making a fool of yourself is not the way to do that. The most action they're getting tonight is with cold porcelain and the alcohol soaked floor of the ladies bathroom. A group of fans gather at the back near the merch tables, all searching out souvenirs and T-shirts. That's where I head as well.

I wait in line, keeping my head down and my face covered until I reach the front of the line. When I do, nerves rack my body again and I feel myself suddenly wanting to throw up. That is until Frank turns to face me and I catch a glimpse of his beautifully familiar hazel eyes and every single emotion I've ever felt for him swells up again.

His eyes widen and his mouth actually drops open a bit, gawking at me and making me feel slightly uncomfortable. I don't know what to say or do so I simply wait for some type of reaction other than the initial shock of seeing me again after eleven months. After only a short moment, he collects himself and turns to the man taking money at the merch table beside his. "Alan," Frank says and my heart flutters at the sound of his voice. "Can you watch my shit for a minute? I'll be right back."

The man, Alan, nods and Frank moves swiftly around the edge of the table. I barely comprehend it when his hand wraps around my wrist and I feel myself being pulled off in another direction. He leads me back into a vacant room, off limits to everyone who isn't either a band, crew, or venue member. When he stops, turning to face me, his grasp on my wrist slips away and I find my skin growing cold at the lack of touch. God, how I missed that touch.

"What the hell are you doing here, Gee?" He asks incredulously. "What if someone recognizes you? Was it your intention to get mobbed by fangirls?"

I can't find words to answer his questions, my mind zeroing in on the nickname I missed hearing so much. I find myself just watching him, not knowing what else to do. He's actually here, right in front of me. I can tell him the truth. I can tell him that I'm in love with him.

But my mind goes blank. Words abandon me. Coherent thoughts seem to fly straight out of my head and I just want to kiss him but my body doesn't seem to get the memo and I don't move.

He's still watching me, waiting for an answer that I can't form.

"Are you drunk?" He asks and suddenly he seems outraged. "I knew you were drinking again, but I thought you were done with--"

"I'm not drunk." I say, finally finding my voice. "I haven't had a drink all night."

"Then would you mind answering my previous question?" He wonders and repeats it just for good measure. "What are you doing here Gerard?"

I watch him dumbly and fight the urge to touch to him, wanting to feel his warm skin on mine again. "Happy Valentines Day."

He raises an eyebrow, looking confused and slightly concerned. "I haven't seen you in almost a year," Frank says. "And you came all the way across the country to tell me happy Valentines Day?"

I swallow as much spit as I can muster, my throat and mouth feeling dry as I force the words forward. "No. I came here to tell you that Projekt Revolution was not just a bad day."

He narrows his eyes in concentration, trying to comprehend what I'm saying. I can actually see the realization light up his features when he remembers the conversation we had before. "Okay? So then what was it?"

"It was the stupidest thing I've ever done." My courage seems to amplify and I take a single step closer to him. "When you came onto me, I regret pushing you away. I shouldn't have done it. I should have done this instead."

Before I can even re-think my actions, I'm leaning into him. I wrap a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him toward me, while the other cups his cheek, tilting his face upward to meet mine. This kiss is so different from anything else I've ever experienced with him. It's not spur of the moment or due to adrenaline in front of a crowd of ten thousand people. It's because I want to kiss him. It's because I want to show him just how much I love him.

It's also different because Frank is the one to push me away.

I stumble back and bite down on my lip. He watches me, his breathing suddenly rugged and his eyes wide. His pupils are blown wide in the dimly lit room and it only draws me to him again, but I force myself to remain still.

"What the hell was that?!" He asks, his voice low and panicked.

I swallow my pride and my fear, my eyes searching his as I say the most terrifying thing I've ever even imagined. "I love you, Frank."

Shock settles on his face and I hurry on before he has the chance to speak. "You don't have to say it back," I tell him. "You don't have to say anything. But I need you to know that I let you go once and I'm not letting that happen again. I won't give up on you. On us."

"There is no  _us_!" Frank's words come out harsh and they actually sting me. "For fucks sake, Gerard, I'm  _married_. I have  _kids_. Projekt Revolution was six years ago. I don't care if it was a bad day or some sick delusion of yours. This Frerard shit was an act. You can't seriously think I would have feelings for you."

My heart literally feels broken. It's as if he's ripped it out of my chest and threw it in my face. The anger and disgust on his face makes tears form in my eyes but I refuse to let them come over. I need to keep at least some of my dignity, seeing as it's the only thing I have left. But I have nothing to say. I want nothing more than to take back everything I've just said to him, take back this kiss and every single one before that. I want to erase his entire existence from my memory because I don't want to feel the pain that's aching inside me.

The door swings open and light floods into the room. My shadow stretched out over Frank but I can see the reflective greens and yellows that bounce off the hazel of his eyes, revealing nothing but animosity and what looks a little like pity.

"Oh, there you are." I can hear Cory's voice behind me but make no move to face him though I want nothing more than to tear my gaze away from Frank. I hate seeing those emotions playing across his face, especially when they're directed at me. "Alan was looking for you. What's up?"

I drag the back of my hand across my eyes, tears streaking the skin against every will in me that's fighting it, and turn to Cory. His eyes widen when he sees me. "Gerard? Hey." He looks pleased-- at least someone is happy to see me-- but slightly confused. "Am I... uh...  _interrupting_  something?"

"No," My voice cracks and I clear my throat. "I was just leaving."

"Gerard--" Frank's voice has lost some of the angry edge but I don't want to listen to him anymore. I push past Cory and out of the room, ignoring the weak protests I hear behind me. I don't try to contain the tears anymore, feeling like a pansy but not caring one bit. I let the salty liquid stain my cheeks, burning against the cold air that hits my face when I escape the venue into the winter air.

I wrap my arms tighter around my chest, pushing my feet forward though I want nothing more than to lay down in the snow and wallow in my self pity.

He rejected me.

I told him the truth and he told me to fuck off.

I don't reach my motel room. I know I should go back there and try to warm up, maybe get some sleep, but I never make it that far. I find myself wandering around aimlessly instead. The cold air fades eventually into a numbness that overtakes my entire body. My limbs feel stiff and my head light, but I keep walking. I think stopping would be harder. If I keep pushing my legs forward, I can focus on the dull ache and the monotonous movements. Stopping would make my mind clear. It would give me time to think about what he said.

He didn't love me.

Hell, he  _hated_  me.

The black sky has turned into a deep blue, dotted with stars and satellites. I find myself watching the individual sparks, trying to decipher which are actual bursts of gas and which are just hunks of metal. It's hard to tell the difference when they're all cloaked with the same dark sky. They're all the same, just flickers of light that look identical.

But I want to know which is which.

Which small flecks against the night sky are real stars? Which ones are the real thing and which are the imitators; Mechanical blobs that are trying to pass themselves off as being real?

I want to get closer to them, escape this shitty little town in this shitty little state on this shitty little planet called Earth, and learn the difference between the real stars and the ones that are just pretending.

I realize that I've stopped walking. In front of me is a gate of some sort and, without much thought, I climb onto the strong rail. I don't bother looking down, I need to see the stars.

I need to get closer.

I feel so close to the specks of light and find myself reaching a foot out in front of me. It's almost as if I were to step out from this rail, I would float right up to them. But before I have the chance to take that step, a voice breaks through my trance-like state, high and panicked and screaming my name. 

"Gerard!"

I don't look back for a long moment, keeping my gaze centered on the beautiful clusters of stars that decorate the sky. I think that I must have imagined the voice, knowing that he could not really be here right now. He rejected me.

But his voice sounds again behind me, this time dripping with fear. "Gerard, please..."

I turn slowly on the rail, keeping a single hand wrapped around the pole that is keeping me from falling back to the ground, and my eyes focus on his small frame. He's a distance back, maybe a few feet or so, and he looks even smaller than usual since I'm still standing on the rail. Frank's eyes are wide and terrified and I think that I see tears where the moonlight reflects on his cheeks. Is he crying?

"Oh God," He chokes and I'm proven correct. Why is he crying? "Gerard please, don't do this. I didn't mean what I said, I'm so sorry. We can talk about this. Please. Don't do this."

What the hell is he talking about?

One arm is stretched out toward me but he looks hesitant, sobs physically shaking his chest.

"Frank?" I ask dumbly, his name being the only response I can muster. "Frankie, why are you crying?"

"I can't lose you," He says. More tears. "Please, Gerard. You don't have to do this."

"Do what?"

"Please," Frank cries. "Please, don't jump."

_Jump?_

And then I look down. 

My breathing stops and my grasp tightens on the pole in my hand. This wasn't just some random gate that I chose to climb up on. I'm on a bridge overlooking Lake Eerie.

And I'm standing on the ledge.

_Oh fuck._..

I swallow hard, trying not to shake or otherwise move. My body feels numb all of a sudden and I can't seem to make myself climb down. It should be simple enough; Turn around and get back onto solid ground. But I can't. My limbs are frozen and my heart is pounding.

"Frankie." His name leaves my mouth in a whimper, pleading him to help me, but I'm not even sure if he can hear. I can practically feel the chill rising up from the freezing water of the lake and it makes me shiver.

And then I feel the warm touch of Frank's skin as he wraps one hand around my own. I look down at him with horror and automatically tighten my grip on him. "Come on," He coaxes. His face is still streaked with tears but his voice is somewhat calm. "Please, Gee. Just look at me. Give me your other hand."

I shake my head. I don't want to let go of my death grip on the pole. If I let go, I'm sure I'll fall.

"Trust me." He whispers.

And I do.

I swallow once again and this time nod. I force my fingers to loosen their grip and reach across my chest toward Frank's outstretched hand. As soon as I feel the warmth as it wraps in mine, relief washes over me and I don't feel so scared anymore. I don't feel as terror-stricken when he pulls me, mostly because my body still refuses to work, off of the ledge. I stumble down onto the ground, nearly passing out from relief when I feel my feet hit solid concrete, and fall into Frank's waiting arms. His face presses against my chest and I can hear him crying once again but I feel numb.

"You scared me," Frank pants in shaking breaths. "God, Gerard, you scared me so much. I thought you were going to jump. I'm so sorry for everything that I said back there. I didn't mean it. Fuck, I love you."

My mind goes blank. Thoughts seem impossible to make but I zero in on the last thing he said. "What did you say?" I push on him a little, needing to see him but his face is still buried in my chest.

He pulls away, wiping a hand across his eyes and looking up at me. "I said I love you, okay? I love you so fucking much and I never want to be scared like that again. I can't lose you, Gerard."

There are so many things I want to say. He could be lying. He could just be caught up in the panic of finding me about to-- unknowingly-- jump into a freezing lake. If he weren't here right now, I would have stepped off of that ledge. I would have been swallowed up by the water and I would have died. But he should not have been here. He should have been with the rest of the band, packing up and heading off to the next city. So, of all things I could say, I ask, "What are you still doing here?"

Frank sniffles and wipes at his face again. "I couldn't let you leave like that," He says. "When you ran off, I thought you hated me for what I said. So I stayed and came to look for you."

"Frank," I whisper, running the pad of my thumb across his cheek, wiping away some of the tears that stain the pale skin. "Thank you for staying."

"I would always stay for you, Gee." That's all he has to say before he pulls me down to his level and crashes his lips to mine again.


End file.
